


404

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fifteen Minute Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-17
Updated: 2003-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>File not found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	404

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fifteen Minute Ficlets community. The prompt was "cookie".

"Shit!" said Dudley, his mouth full of yet another black & white biscuit. He pounded at the keyboard. "Fucking server's down!"

Harry glanced up from the odious task of picking up Dudley's worn and pilled-up socks from the bedroom floor— Dudley could never be expected to pick up his own room. "Better not let your mum hear you talking that way."

"Shut up! Nobody asked you." Dudley face was twisted in frustration as he pounded some more, his chubby fingers flying over the keys and leaving crumbs of chocolate on the grey plastic. "Fuck this, why's it have to be so bloody slow?"

Ever since Dudley'd started hanging around with a new group of friends, it seemed that every other word out of his mouth was a curse. Harry didn't especially care— Muggles couldn't hurt you with words— but Aunt Petunia had nearly fainted the first time she'd heard the F-word come spurting out of her dear Duddy's fat red mouth.

"I can just see her face if she could hear you," Harry went on, dropping the pile of socks in the clothes hamper. "You know how her face gets all tight and wrinkly when she's angry? Like a 3000 year old Egyptian mummy."

Dudley turned in his swivel chair, going purple. "Why you little piece of—" His fists were balled up round and white. Harry stood quite still. He had no intention of giving Dudley the satisfaction of seeing him try to run away.

But Dudley didn't hit him. He picked up the plastic tray of crumbly black & white biscuits on his computer desk, and dumped them all over the white carpeted floor.

"What the—!" Harry started.

"Pick it up," Dudley said in a savage growl, and turned back to his computer screen.

Harry had no choice. His face burning, he knelt on the floor picking black and white crumbs out of the shag, the creaks of Dudley's plastic swivel chair close in his ears.

"Fucking server," Dudley mumbled to himself, somewhere above Harry's head. A waterfall of rapid typing. "S'always fucking down..."


End file.
